The Moment, No. 3

‘This is the one’

A Princess, a prom dress and a mom’s tears

One day after school, about six weeks before prom, Princess Reeves and her mother pull up to St. Andrew United Methodist Church in their hand-me-down Toyota. A trail of signs leads them to the right place.

Stage lighting illuminates a cavernous hall, where more than 2,400 gowns, sorted by size and color, fill the racks. The sound of clinking hangers and giggling teenagers rises up to the high ceilings. Volunteers in pink aprons hover, eager to serve as personal shoppers.

Princess is 17, with one foot in girlhood, the other tiptoeing off to college and a life of her own. Today’s hunt for a prom dress represents one of the last childhood rituals she and her mother will share before she goes.

...

Princess has a fluttering laugh, hair that wisps at her forehead, almond-brown skin like her mom’s. She sings in the choir at Centennial High School in Frisco. She wants to become a criminal investigator, or maybe a medical examiner.

She lives with her mom, Teresa, an older sister, niece and nephew. Come fall, she plans to attend the University of Colorado Colorado Springs.

The adjustment will be huge — for her and Mom.

Teresa, who is 58, had her youngest daughter late in life. She’s raised her as a single parent since getting divorced and moving to Texas from Colorado six years ago.

Together, they take walks with their terrier, Bentley, and go “wish shopping” at the mall for luxury items they can’t afford.

A prom dress could have been that kind of item. Teresa once worked as a kitchen manager but now stays home to care for her grandkids. She didn’t know how she’d pay to send her baby to prom.

Then she learned about “Prom Closet,” an event earlier this month at St. Andrew, where volunteers collected donated prom dresses and gave them away for free.

Teresa remembers her own prom: The puffy yellow dress, how beautiful she felt, how she bonded with her mother, who helped her get ready. She wants that for her daughter. If she can’t pay for Princess’ prom dress, she can at least help her pick it out.

“I want her to know that even though it’s the last hurrah for her,” she says, “Mama’s always there.”

...

Andy Jacobsohn | Staff Photographer

They make their way through the racks.

Princess knows what she wants. Something long. Possibly black. Not too boring, but not too “frou-frou.”

Her mom, a fan of bright colors, has something else in mind. She pauses at an orange dress with intricate beading. “This would be really pretty.”

Princess looks like she’s smelled sour milk. “That one?”

They keep moving.

Inside the fitting room, Princess takes off her Keds, her Denver Broncos T-shirt, the jeans with her cellphone in the back pocket. She squeals as her mom pulls dresses over her head, tangling body parts and catching fabric on her glasses.

“Mom!” she says with teenage exasperation. “Moth-ER!”

They say no to a lavender dress sequined like a disco ball. Frown at a ruffly blue one. Reject a white one that reminds them of a wedding.

Finally, they narrow the choice to two.

One, a simple black-and-white dress, suits Princess’ understated style. The high schooler wears her hair in a stubby bun. She shops for shoes at Wal-Mart.

Then there’s the dress her mom likes: a vibrant coral gown that sparkles in all the right places. Teresa, a grandma who calls herself a “glam-ma,” thinks her daughter should go bold.

Princess stands in the dressing room mirror, contemplating the two dresses. She likes them both.

But which one is the one?

...

Princess primps and turns in the coral dress.

“It looks good on you, doesn’t it?” says her mother, triumphant.

“Yeah …” says Princess.

“There you go! Mama knows best!”

But then comes the black-and-white gown. This one makes Princess feel as classy as Cleopatra, beautiful in a different way.

She gets back into the coral dress for comparison.

“Which one do you like?” asks Princess. “You don’t like the black-and-white one?”

“Not for prom,” says her mom.

After all, you only get one senior prom. One afternoon of dress shopping with your mom. One last slow dance with childhood before it’s gone.

Princess twirls back and forth, feeling the coral material sway around her. She stretches onto her tiptoes: imaginary high heels. Then she gives her mom a thumbs-up.

“Yep,” she says. “This is the one.”

Mom shrieks and starts to cry and leans in to hug her daughter, who doesn’t pull away.